Page 57 of Echoes in the Storm
“Because that’s when she died.” Duke takes a step closer, looping an arm around my shoulders and tucking me to his side.
I nod, and then point to a rough patch of grass where the bitumen has chipped, the layers from repeated resealing of the road visible. “That’s where the woman hit her.” I turn in his hold, taking him with me, and point out a rose bush planted slightly offset from the letterbox. “That’s where she landed.”
“Cam, you don’t have to do this.”
“I do.” My nose tingles, my eyes sore as the pressure builds within my ears. I fight the tears because after all, what have they ever brought me? Certainly not relief. “I want you to understand, Duke, that nightmares happen in the brilliance of the day as well as the dark of night. A tragic incident is something we can’t foresee. Even though we beat ourselves up over the details that are so freaking obvious afterward, there’s nothing anyone can do to prevent a true tragedy. Living life afraid of the what-ifs is letting death win before you’ve even reached the final act.”
His chest rises with his deep breath. “You ever feel like you’re on this hamster wheel where no matter how fast you run, how much you tire yourself out trying to get ahead, you’re still stuck in that same rut?”
“Every goddamn day,” I say. “Jared used to tell me that if I bothered to stop and take a breath, I might find that I was actually able to breathe. He thought I would work myself into a frenzy as a charade, a way to prove to people I actually felt guilty for what I did. In his head, I didn’t really care. Because he blames me, he can’t see how it was possible for me to be affected by Taylah’s death. He thought I did it all for show: constant volunteering, working overtime, offering to help people shift house, redecorate—anything that would keep me busy.” I rest my head back against Duke’s arm and stare over the tree line at the stars beyond. “Truth is, I tried to stop and breathe a few times, but I never felt like there was any air left for me. Instead, my chest would ache as though I was taking on water, drowning in my grief. As long as I found a way to keep busy, I found a way to tread water and stay afloat. I found a way to live.”
“And now?” Duke asks gently.
“Now, staying busy is my hamster wheel. Only my wheel is suspended over a black ocean of every mistake I’ve ever made, and if I falter, I’ll drown.”
His arm cinches tighter, pulling me close enough that he lays a gentle kiss to my head. “Seems we’re both as tethered to our past as each other.”
I huff a short, bitter laugh. “Want to cut the cord with me?”
Duke pulls me flush against him, wrapping me inside his strong, warm arms as he rests his chin atop my head. “Woman, I’d dive into the black and drown with you, because for once, I don’t think I’d be afraid if you were with me.”
Duke
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Cam asks as I stand at the foot of her bed.
“Seems only logical given what we did last night.”
She presses her lips together, clearly not convinced but willing to let me do what it takes to move on. “How do you want to start?” Her gaze settles on my bare chest, on the scars I carry.
“Lying down.” I lift my eyebrows and chuckle with her. She’s so cute when she laughs.
“Come on then.” Cam pats the mattress with a smile.
I take a deep breath and climb on, crawling up the bed to where she sits. “You know, any time you’re not okay with this, just tell me.”
“If I wasn’t okay with it,” she says, tracing a line between my abs with her finger, “I would have laughed at you when you first brought it up.”
After she took me down the driveway to share that most intimate detail with me, Cam and I returned to the house to go through our usual nightly routine. She showered, I changed, and we looked awkwardly at each other in the mirror as we brushed our teeth.
Knowing we could do this dance forever, and that our time together is short, I bit the bullet and brought the subject up: why not share the same bed?
“How do you like it?” she asks as I settle on my side, my head propped on my hand to watch her.
“I usually start out on my back, but most of the time face down is better.”
“Same.” She nudges me in the side with a loose fist. “See? Look at us being best buddies again.”
I laugh, reaching out and pulling her to me. “Naw. My bestie.”
Cam squeals as I rub her head with my fist, giving her a noogie. “Duke. Stop it.”
I do, but only so I can roll to my back and take her with me. She’s all kitted out in a sensible pyjama set: skulls with bows on their heads adorn her pink-flocked flannelettes. I pinch the soft fabric between my fingers.
“These really are a tease, you know. A woman could get herself in trouble wearing flannelette around a red-blooded man like me.”
She snorts the most un-ladylike laugh at my sarcasm. “Maybe that was my intention?”
A moment passes where neither of us say a thing. Cam lies on top of me, her fingers making lazy circles in my hair.